The Odyssey of Taldaris: Morning Salvation
by He Who See's
Summary: Millenia ago a small fleet of Protoss ships was sent to scour the Galaxy for advanced life.Their mission a failure,they soon discover that their return trip through warp space has landed them in a different Universe where they shall accomplish far more...
1. Chapter 1

***EDIT: 11/14/2012***

FINALLY! AFTER MONTHS, I'VE FINISHED THE FIGHT SCENE AND THE FIRST CHAPTER OF THIS STORY! YEAH!

Now, I just gotta finish the introduction to the Quarian Stars of the Show and I can try and update Sins of a Solar Empire: Domination! Huzzah!

Also, to the unknown guy who gave me the idea to glance over the fight, since it's been so long since I last even thought about this story, it'd seem lazy (lazier) and that I was taking the easy way out if I didn't manage to finish it. In other words, I feel obliged to finish it.

Plus, it does establish and showcase some character and stuff for the second half of Protoss main characters and I do believe fight scenes can be a good vehicle for those purposes.

Still, glancing over some stuff is a good idea, and will be kept in mind in the future…

***EDIT: 11/09/2012***

I've changed the names of the two Praetors and changed some of the structure a bit.

Aside from that, I'm still hard at work on the fight scene and trying to come up with the sitch on Rannoch when our stars get there.

***EDIT: 01/28/2012***

I've added in part of the establishment scene for Praetor Esadrok and Edsadix. I say "PART" as I've only managed to write down the pre-fight banter between the two and am approaching the actual fight with caution. This is so because despite my best digging through StarCraft wiki, I can't seem to find just exactly HOW MUCH faster, stronger, agile, etc that a Protoss is to a human and how much such factors and similar ones are increased by their Power Suits. As such, if anyone would care to aid in this endeavor, let me know. I can guarantee you that such action will only increase the rate at which I can finish the Praetor's establishment scene and move on to the Quarian protagonists.

***EDIT: 01/14/2012***

I've decided to change some things about this chapter that I felt needed changing. The additions should be noticeable and should help improve the over-all quality.

Also, know that for some time to come, any additions to the story will be made in the first chapter. For I feel that this chapter should adequately introduce the stars of tonight's show before we continue to the next chapter and admittedly, I'm still working on the "main character" situation. So in other words, expect updates to not include new chapters. However, do expect already existing chapters to have extra story added to them.

**_The Odyssey of Taldaris: Morning Salvation_**

In the expanses of timeless space above a distant world, there hung a small fleet of ten ships. Nine of these vessels were known as Carriers and the other, as a "Mothership." They were built and crewed by a race of beings known as The Protoss. Gifted with incredible Psionic power and technology that the people of their Universe's earth haven't even thought of yet, the Protoss have sent this token force to scour the galaxy in search of intelligent life with a level of advancement similar to their own, similar physiology, or similar Psionic potential.

But as they have discovered much to their dismay, out of all of the races they have encountered, only they are currently in possession of Warp technology, such a unique anatomy, and such a high Psionic Gestalt. They will likely continue to be for some time to come.

With heavy hearts burdened by disappointment, those aboard the carriers prepared to return to their homeworld of Aiur. Out of all of them, none were more saddened by this turn of events than this Expeditionary Fleet's leader. A relatively obscure Protoss High Templar by the name of "Taldaris."

From the Mothership, which was known as the "Day Walker," Taldaris looked out at the planet below from the ship's bridge through a psychic holograph. If there were anyone else attuned to the Khala, the source of the majority of Protoss Psionics, they would have "heard" the mental and emotional equivalent of a sigh. A sigh someone actually managed to pick up on, much to his surprise.

"Is something wrong?"

Taldaris turned around to see a familiar, elderly Protoss female standing before him.

"Yes Shiala. There is." He said to her in a sad tone of "voice". "When I began this expedition, it was my solemn hope to find a race, ANY RACE, like us. But…just look at it Preserver."

He turned back to the projection of the world they currently orbited and gestured towards it half-heartedly with one of his hands.

"The dominant species of this planet is pre-industrial, possesses six limbs, ears, mouths, a three foot height on average, and like all of the other species we have discovered on our journey, are prone to fits of violence much like we were before the unity of the Khala." He said, brows creasing in focus. "In all likelihood, they will probably destroy themselves before they even know that travel amongst the stars is possible, much less how to traverse through Warp Space."

He looked down at the ground and shook his head, once again "sighing."

"We have failed, Shiala. That is what is wrong."

For a few moments afterwards, the bridge remained silent. That was until Taldaris felt a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"There there young one. Do not fret." Shiala said soothingly. "I am sure that it will not be much longer before we discover a species that shares qualities our race can easily relate to. Though it may take decades, centuries, or even millennium, and may at first cause more harm than good, I have little doubt that in the end, we shall learn a great deal from each other and benefit for it."

The templar made the emotional approximation of a sad-smile and turned his head to regard the Preserver.

"Perhaps you are right Shiala. Though part of me believes that I will not live to see such a day dawn, another believes that you are correct."

He turned his back to the projection.

"For you possess the infallible Wisdom of all who have come before…and all I possess is my own."

Once again to his surprise, The Preserver chuckled.

"Hmmm…if it is not too bold, may I ask you what it is you find humor in?" Taldaris asked curiously.

"Oh it is nothing young one. It is just that I still find your humility to be refreshing, especially for one as young as you are and of your…position…"

The High Templar performed the closest equivalent to a smirk he could.

"You wouldn't happen to be referring to Praetor Esadrok or Edsadix would you?"

The Preserver herself sighed and shook her head.

"Yes…actually…" She said with closed eyes as she pinched her brow. "I know more comprehensively than most that the warriors of our people revel in combat Taldaris…but the way those two yearn to surpass the other…does not put me at ease. Especially during their "Heroic charge" during that Fleadian Civil War a few weeks time ago."

The High Templar chortled at the memory and put a hand on her shoulder.

"As you have said to me Shiala, "do not fret." Though their rivalry is legendary and ever present, Esadrok and Edsadix were acting quickly to save those rebels from extinction; and they did emerge victorious."

"True enough." She said with an approximation of Taldaris's sad "smile" earlier. "I just hope that their hubris does not cloud their judgment and lead to disaster. For such has been the case for many of our "well-intentioned" ancestors. Now if you'll permit me young one, I must be getting back to the archives to meditate on this world."

Taldaris removed his hand and bowed respectfully.

"En Taro Khas Shiala."

The preserver returned the gesture.

"En Taro Khas Taldaris."

With that, she left the Bridge and entered into one of the long winding hallways leading out of the Command Center of the Mothership, leaving Taldaris alone once again with the image of the Planet the fleet orbited. He sighed.

Aboard the Golden Carrier bearing the title of "Sun's Wrath," a crowd of Protoss had gathered. Some were technicians, some were medical personnel, and many more were of the Zealot class of Warriors. In one of the carrier's cargo bays, this crowd made a circle around two other Protoss, who in turn, circled around the other like a predator with his prey.

Like all Zealots, they were clad in the ornate and regal power suits that were the standard of the average Protoss foot-soldier. Wrapped in these protective gold and blue examples of Protoss engineering, the two Zealots activated the Psi-Blade emitters on their respective gauntlets and became like statues of themselves. Slowly their eyes narrowed upon the other, stopping only after the one on the left spoke up.

"Are you sure you wish to continue on your current path Edsadix? There is no shame in turning back now. After all, it'll only lead you to the medical ward—or worse—as a Dragoon." He said with a healthy dose of humor and pride that most sapient species, regardless of telepathic ability, could sense.

"So certain Esadrok?" The Zealot on the right asked in an equally smug tone.

"Quite." Esadrok said. "For though many a warrior have fallen at your feet, few of them have matched the power of an observer much less a _true_ Protoss of the Zealot Caste, such as myself."

Edsadix let out a hearty chuckle that echoed across the minds of all those present. "Well then, certainly a warrior of such conviction would not mind demonstrating his so called _power_ against a novice such as I. Unless of course, he fears being bested and becoming a novice himself with all of these eyes baring testimony." He said with as much conceit as he could muster.

Esadrok huffed. "I implied no such thing. I am merely voicing my concern that if I were to unleash my full potential, that you will in all likelihood, be indisposed of for quite some time. Possibly to such an extant, that you will be unfit to serve as a Zealot in battle again."

"Bah!" Yelled Edsadix. "Even if such a thing WERE to occur, I would be content! Consoled in the knowledge that I would still live to serve Auir and her people as a Dragoon!"

Esadrok chuckled. "Now who is the one who is so certain?"

Edsadix growled and was preparing to speak when Esadrok one his long digited hands rose up to halt him.

"Very well brother. I shall keep the promise I made to you many moons ago and shall engage you in combat. After all, you did manage to slay more than I on this expedition. It only seems fair that I uphold my end of the bargain."

Edsadix eyes widened in surprise at first at this statement, but narrowed to their previous position once more.

"Thank you Esadrok."

"You're most welcome." Esadrok said, his own eyes narrowing to their past placement.

The two pointed their arm-blades towards the other.

"I am to understand that save for the energy fueling our blades, our Psionic power is to be excluded from this battle? Shields included?" Esadrok queried.

"You understand correctly."

"Very well."

For several moments afterwards, the two Praetors stood there, watching the other as the assembled crowd watched them both with the Protoss equivalent of bated breath. Then, as suddenly as a bolt of Psionic lightning, the two lowered their arms and let them drag at their sides as they sprinted to meet each other as fast as they could.

"En Taro Khas!" They shouted in Unison.

Edsadix attacked first, stroking forward with both blades aimed towards his brother's chest. Esadok managed to twist around this attack as well as Edsadix and swiped his right arm towards the other Praetor's neck, but he ducked low and let loose a stab meant to disable the out-stretched arm of his opponent. Esadrok however, managed to bring up his left gauntlet just in time for the blade extending from it to parry the blow and countered with his own arm-disabling stab, which his brother also managed to block.

For a while, they stood there, staring the other down as the cyan blue psionic power of their blades sparked and hissed against each other. With perfect synchrony, they jumped back a few feet, and resumed circling each other.

"As always, your speed and technique is excellent, little brother." Commended Esadrok. "But, _as always, _your eagerness for combat leaves you telegraphing your intent ahead of time to the point where I fear those two will not be there to save you on the day you encounter a foe greater than yourself who, unlike me, truly wishes to harm you."

"_My _eagerness for combat?" Edsadix asked, disbelievingly. "Last I recall, it was _you yourself _who suggested we lend our aid to those rebels on Fleadia. How such an action _does not _indicate a desire for battle eludes me."

_"As do so many other things, young Edsadix." _The elder of the two sighed, inwardly. "Because it was not a desire for combat that drove me to fighting alongside them brother. There cause was just, and the means the ruling arty of their world were utilizing to silence them…were not so."

Esadrok then gave a humorous snort. "Furthermore, I do not recall _you yourself _objecting to the opportunity and being found wanting on the subsequent killing fields."

His younger sibling gazed upon him intensely before his look softened and he gave his own snort in response. "Aye. I will give you that."

In unison, they ceased their pacing.

"'Much in the same way I shall hand you your defeat?'" Esadrok said, paraphrasing his brother with his fingers, mockingly.

Instead of giving a verbal response, Edsadix opted to charge his brother in what seemed like the same manner with which he had kicked-off the duel. At the last possible speck of time however, his powerful legs pushed him a good nine feet into the recycled air, over the head of his brother, who had seemingly been expecting the opening attack of the match by the way his footing was placed. Giving a single forward flip, he managed to brun a duet of six inch long cuts, slashed vertically, into the back of his brother's power suit as Esadrok was busy stepping around the attack that never came. Landing with a thud on the polished metal of the bay, Edsadix lunged forward and gauged two more cuts, horizontally, across the front of his brother's armor, yelling, "Aye!"

Luckily for the elder of the two siblings though, Esadrok had managed to lean far enough backwards during this attack to save his hide from being grazed by his brother's attack. Jumping several feet backwards, he stole a quick glance at his suit's chest plate and managed to take in the extent of the damage in that brief moment in time.

"Hmmm…so you have managed to scratch my armor. Impressive. You've certainly come a long way from the days of your instruction." He complemented. "As such, I now believe you to be ready to contend with _all _that I have in this state."

With wanton cruelty, Edsadix felt the tide of the battle rapidly begin to slam him against some rocky shore. His brother had renewed the battle with a focused fury that he had rarely seen from him. Stabs, slices, slashes, and swipes of the vertical, horizontal, and perpendicular breed came at him with such masterful speed and skill that he was exerting a vast amount of effort into the acts of blocking, dodging, parrying, or otherwise. So much effort, in fact, that the odds of even _attempting _a counter-offensive, much less a successful one, were remote.

A true pity, for he found his hooves rapidly losing ground and the wall on the other side of the bay getting larger.

"If you admit defeat now Edsadix, there will be no shame in it for you." Esadrok stated calmly, his left arm arcing to lop-off his brother's head.

"Really?" Asked Edsadix, a bit more out of breath than his sibling as he narrowly ducked the arc. "I suspect you are trying to deceive me brother."

"You'd suspect correctly." Confessed Esadrok. "Still, at the very least, you would feel less shame than if you were to fail utterly, which, you shall."

Edsadix "smiled" wryly at this. "Ha! And others know _me _as the conceited one!"

Esadrok mimicked his brother's 'smile'. "A title that shall stick for so long as you give them reason to, brother."

Now, his back a mere three feet away from the wall, Edsadix would need a miraculous turn of events in order to turn the tables in his favor.

_"Attention all masters of the expeditionary fleet." _Echoed the voice of High Templar Taldaris through the minds of all those onboard. _"Prepare for the warp jump to Auir. You have ten minutes."_

As the message from the fleet leader came, Edsadix noticed his brother glance to the side for the briefest of moments, his attack faltering and his mind not yet registering that the message was coming from a mothership hundreds, if not thousands, of miles away. By the grace of the gods, this would be all that Edsadix required.

Spinning around on his heels, he thrust his arms outward and propelled himself forward, towards the wall. His blades mere millimeters away from striking its surface, he performed a technique, a new one he had learned since before this trip had begun. He blinked.

Reappearing behind his brother, who had doubtlessly noticed his absence in his frontal view, Edsadix's blades were positioned perfectly so as to sever the emitters on his brother's arms, essentially winning the bout. They would have to…if he didn't feel an armored hoof await his face and send him careening unceremoniously onto his backside.

"Gah!" He yelled out, massaging his aching face with his blades retracted. "By the Xel'Naga Esadrok, what was that!? Have you no shame!? No honor!?"

His brother turned around, his own blades lowering, and he glowered his eyes upon him. "Interesting. You speak of shame and honor, yet you are the one who resorted to breaking our agreement of no psionics, thus forfeiting your match whether or not you managed to beat me. Very interesting." He said in a calm, yet unmistakably cold manner.

His brother was about to make a retort, but the words died in his mind, for his brother was right. He had hoped, at the time, that Esadrok would fail to notice his little…_bending _of the rules instead of catching him or being told by one of the dozens of observers, by some fortunate turn of events. But, there was no denying it. Esadrok was correct, as ever.

Ignoring the helping hand offered to him by his elder, Edsadix stood once more. "Forgive my transgression Esadrok." He apologized, bowing his head. "In the heat of battle, I thought attacking you by traditional means, even in your momentary distractions, would have not ended things in my favor, so I opted to employ…less traditional means. For this, my sorrow is greater than the size of the "Day Walker."

His brother crossed his arms over his chest and simply said, "Noted. Now, you heard the words of the High Templar. We make for the homeworld in a few minutes time, so return to the "Sunwell," brother. I believe you know the way out."

Bowing apologetically once more, Edsadix took his brother's words to heart and turned towards the nearest exit as the spectators returned to their duties. Stopping by the frame of the bulkhead, a thought occurred to him and he turned his head around towards his elder, saying, "In order to avoid the destruction of your blade emitters, and counter as you did, you had to make use of your psionics, didn't you?"

To his surprise, his brother's response came in the form of a deep and throaty chuckle. "Contrary to whatever you may have been taught little brother, the use of the mind in an active capacity that does not leave one's skull is all that is needed to avoid an _amateur _attack such as that one."

Eyes widening, Edsadix faced forwards again and continued walking. After a few seconds, if he had a mouth, to a human observer, it would appear obvious that he had a sly grin plastered across his face.

After the ten minutes were up, the ten ships comprising the expeditionary fleet took up a position facing away from the planet below. Using its massive khaydarin crystal, the "Day Walker" opened up a warp rift more than suitable for every vessel to fit inside of.

From their position on the opposite end of the galaxy, it would take the Protoss five to six days to hang in orbit above Auir. Given the nature of warp space upon their entrance, the majority of the fleet would find themselves fortunate to find only four days had passed since the jump was initiated.

The remaining three, the twin carriers "Sun's Wrath" and "Sunwell" and their flagship, the "Day Walker," would not find themselves to be gifted with such luck.

For, due to some miscalculation, mistake, or some ebb in warp space that had an infinitesimal chance of occurring, it was their fate to be removed from the ever onwards flow that is the history of their people, galaxy, and indeed, their very Universe. Their fate was, instead, to enter the historical flow of another people in another version of their galaxy in another Universe entirely, and radically, irrevocably, alter its otherwise inevitable course…


	2. Chapter 2

***EDIT: 11/25/2012***

I changed the word "cruise" to "cruiser", so now, the Neema II should be a "light cruiser." I've also added a line of text after the previous draft's end to add a bit more flavor and spice. It's not much, but the touches that make something already decent better are usually light. Aside from that, I've added an author's note at the end of this chapter, and will now do so from now on in order to prevent people from being deterred from reading simply because the first thing they see is a rather distracting and anti-atmoshperhic word from the author.

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Chapter 2.

In the Tikkun system, there was a world: the only one there that was a cradle for sapient life. On this planet, Rannoch, were three large and grand metropolises that served as the primary congregation point for all of the members of this world's dominate species, The Quarians. This was not due to their own design, but rather, it was the result of the desires of an enemy of their own design. An enemy that had struck at them from within and that had forced them all to huddle together into just these three cities. An enemy that they feared, that they _knew, _would stop at nothing until all of their bones were bleached by the dessert sands and the unforgiving rays of the sun.

An orange sun with approximately ninety-percent the mass of Sol and half the luminosity, that slowly rose over the horizon of one of these cities, Hani, and bought the attention of one Quarian soldier in particular.

_"Damn. The suns up already." _He thought, his helmeted hand lying on its side upon the roof of a burned out hover car as he watched his people's sun rise. _"Wellp, time to wake everyone up. Why not?"_

Bracing his arms against the roof of the car, he pushed himself to his feet, stretched out his body as best he could within the confines of the hardsuit he wore, and took a few steps backwards from the formerly functioning vehicle.

On his left hand, he brought up his omni-tool and cycled through a few things before finding what function he was looking for, and selecting it with a tap. At the maximum volume his device would allow, the following song then proceeded to permeate throughout the air for the next thirty feet like a swarm of Locusts:

_They came from the sky with their parachutes on,_

_Tuchanka troops, Operation Red Dawn,_

_Butt Ugly Krogans from the Rachni Wars,_

_Back to attack the Quarian shores,_

_They came through the relays with their space marines,_

_Krogan troops lookin' really mean,_

_Fifty planets under red alert,_

_Ready to face the Tuchanka troops,_

_Go!_

_Krogan Attack!_

As he had anticipated, the two other brave Quarian troops nodding off on either side of where he had just been, awoke with a start, mumbling incoherent words that he couldn't quite make out with his music blasting so loudly. Inside the ruined wreck of the hovercar though, he could clearly make out the older Quarian fellow practically leap from his laying position in the backseat, his helmet hitting the roof with a metallic clang, and shout out, "We're under attack! Everyone! Take cover!" aiming his assault rifle as wildly around as he could given the vehicle's less than accommodating interior, popping off several shots.

Quickly switching his music off, the Quarian who had played it in the first place frantically ran up to the back window of the hovercar and reached inside, trying to wrest the gun from the aging man inside before he could cause any damage to something a lot softer than metal and concrete.

"Take it easy old timer!" He shouted, doing an admittedly lackluster job of calming the spooked Quarian down. "There aren't any damn synthetics here looking to grind out bones into usable minerals. If you keep this up though, someone might become a partial robo; namely you when I'm done with ya!"

After a few more moments of fruitless fighting over the rifle, it finally overheated, and the words of the younger Quarian finally started to settle into the older trooper, who gave an embarrassed look beneath his visor.

"Ahehe." He chuckled nervously. "Sorry about that. Guess I just got a little carried away by that infernal racket is all."

As much as the younger Quarian wanted to snatch the gun from the other's hand at that moment and slam it firmly against his chest or helmet, he knew that if he opted to use a wake up call that was a bit…_subtler_, that the other one wouldn't have woken up so trigger happy. Instead, he took a deep, calming breath without transmitting the sound anywhere aside from his helmet's interior and said, out loud, "Just try and make sure that the Geth are actually attacking next time, would ya Dru? You just did more damage to our cover than a half dozen armatures put together into some giant, horrific killing machine from the Sci-Fi vids."

"Something that probably wouldn't have happened if you didn't decide to play that infernal racket so close to our ears Rol!" Yelled out the voice of the Quarian to the younger one's left, a female, as she shook the mental cobwebs that had formed in her head. "I mean…Keelah man!"

"Hey, it's not my fault you're a farm girl from out in the stix with no class or culture whe it comes to the latest and greatest of the galaxy's sound, Kon." Said Rol, cheekily.

"Oh bite me varren thumper, I do to." She said, rolling her eyes. "I just prefer the good ol' classics 'stead of that new agey Turian junk."

Despite part of his brain urging him not to, he turned towards Kon and said, "Believe me darlin': I'd love nothing more than to _bite_ you, but I don't think I wanna risk _catching _anythin'."

Though this, to most outside his squad, would seem like a reference to the generally shared paranoia about the Geth possibly using Biological or Chemical weapons upon the general, remaining populace of the planet, the _oh so _subtle jab was not lost upon them. Especially Kon, who proceeded to rather furiously, and repeatedly, shove the butt of her shotgun into the part of Rol's hardsuit covering up his unmentionable area.

"Ah!" Yelled out Rol, trying to deflect the cold piece of composite metal with the back of his hands, and only succeeding in causing those parts of his body pain instead. "I'm sorry Kon, I'm sorry! It was just a stupid quip! Come on!"

Kon stopped mid jab, eliciting a sigh of relief fro Rol who lowered his defenses…long enough for Kon to reel back the butt of her shotgun quickly and shove it into his groin, hard, one more time.

"Hahaha!" Chuckled Dru, sliding out of where the rear windiw once was. "Hopefully that'll teach ya some manners when it comes to talkin' to members of the fairer species like that, Youngblood."

"Or at least learn not to say anything towards her. Gah!" He said, trying his best not to keel over.

"Damn right!" Exclaimed Kon, matter-of-factly.

Dru vaulted over where the engine of the car once was and landed on his rear-end at his usual position with a thud as Rol finally managed to shed off enough pain to sit down at his position, in between the passenger door and the back one on this side. The both of them drew their rifles, Rol's an assault and Dru a sniper, when the former noticed the Quarian to his left, in between him and the older one, not have his weapon drawn like the rest of them.

"Hey Jor." Rol said, failing to get his attention. "Hey Jor! Jor'vell!"

Finally managing to get him out of whatever mental lull he was in, Jor turned towards Rol and asked, in a dry monotone, "Yes squad leader?"

"You're in position, but you don't have your weapon out."

Jor looked slowly at his left hand and then equally as slowly at his right hand. "Huh. I guess you're right."

An awkward silence fell upon the group for a few moments before Rol said, "Well…you mind _drawing _your weapon for us and the Keelah damned robos who want our blood like a Salarian wants of their mating contracts? Namely the Keelah damned robos?"

Jor ever so gradually turned his head downwards, towards the magnum magnetically holstered on his right hip. For awhile, he looked at it, an emotion plastered across his face that, even though the rest of the team could not see in the slightest, they could feel in the brobdingnagian from experience with him.

Relieving the growing tension in the air with a sigh, Jor said, "Sure. Why not, huh?" and drew the magnum, leisurely putting in a phase round modulator.

Now, each one of them in position and with their guns held firmly in their hands, the squad prepared for the oncoming onslaught that assailed them on a daily basis. Boredom.

Simply put, the vid cats transmitting all over Citadel space, telling about how the Quarian people faced against daily assaults by the clinically ruthless Geth were greatly exaggerated…at least, when talking about recent events (or more specifically, the _lack _of recent events). For the past two weeks, the city of Hani and the other two remaining Metropolises of Quarian civilization left, Tel'Moran and Vas Legas, had seen neither exoskeleton nor transistor of Geth activity anywhere close.

Rol and his squad had come to the general consensus that the reason for this lull in the fighting was because, despite their immense losses, their people still held firmly to orbital supremacy over Rannoch. If the synthetics got too close, well, the Krogan term of shooting varren in a spice crate applied quite aptly to the amount of them that were turned back into the slag from wence they came.

Though why the fleet didn't just bombard and bomb the territory that the Geth had taken, since it had pretty much been bombarded and bombed to kingdom come anyways, was a mystery with no official answer from the men and women upstairs.

As the sun finally managed to break the cloud layer entirely, two hours later, this was a topic that Rol decided to bring up, given the stifling lack of Geth to put down.

"So, before our shift, any of you manage to pick up anything about why the admirals don't just blast the robos from space?" He said, turn down the music blasting inside his helmet to a substantially lower volume. "It'd certainly be a lot quicker and a lot better than holding out like a bunch of Vorcha cornered by the police, or a very big gang they managed to piss off. Same difference on O-Mega, really."

"Huh. You'd know all about O-Mega and the rest of that wretched hive of scum and villainy they call civilized space it's in, wouldn't ya Rol?" Said Kon with sarcasm, as she took apart her shotgun for the fiftieth or so time and began to reassemble it.

"What can I say? A "varren thumper" like me can find a lot of good bands out there that aren't licensed to operate in the domain of those posh pansies in the council."

Finding no argument from the other three, Rol asked, "Well?"

"I heard from a semi-reliable friend of mine at the armory that the fleet's running low on their big munitions and don't have enough for an attack like that, so their trying to be frugal with what they got." Said Dru.

"I heard from one of the few desk jockeys they got left that they're waiting for one of the Admirals to come back from the Citadel with their support."

"Huh. That's a bundle of frakkin chuckles." Responded Rol.

"Actually, from the way she put it, it seems like there's actually a shot of these new talks comin' through."

"Pfff…" Dru replied. "Either she's lying, was lied to and believes every word of what she's spoutin', or some combination of the two Ms. Kal. Believe me when I say that, on my honor as a former municipal drone in the military myself."

"But—" Began Kon before Dru waved her off.

"Honey, you know how the first talks went. You know how the second talks went. Keelah, you know how the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth talks went. Those two faced politicians up there in that ancient Prothean Space Fortress of theirs have made it abundantly frakkin clear what their stance is when of their own crates a race of AIs that rise up and turn against them. It's _been _clear since they kicked our sorry butts outta our embassy." He said, resting the back of his head against the hovercar.

_"They cut the lump off, and let it fry in the sun." _Thought Rol with a conflicting sense of dark humor and dark furiousness.

Kon wanted to say something back, but whatever retort she would have given died in her throat, and she remained quiet, realizing the truth behind what she had just heard, however inconvenient it may have been. A few moments later, it was Jor of all people who broke the quiet.

"Well I heard that the ships don't just carpet bomb the Geth from orbit because not all of the people in the cities they've taken are dead or managed to make it out."

Three helmeted heads snapped towards him. "What are you saying Jor?" Asked Kon.

"Isn't it onvious?" He said, as though it were. "The Geth didn't kill everyone in cold blood. They're keeping some alive."

To say this took the other Quarians by surprise was a fine example of understatement.

"That's a good one Doc." Dru said, with the exact opposite of humor emanating from his voice. "Why on Rannoch would they do that? Don't they all have a single minded purpose to walk all over our bones and the bones of our children and all that?"

"Last time I checked." Replied Jor. "So, what better way to stay alive to see that goal come to pass than by taking a bunch of us prisoner, rounding us all up into camps out in the open for all of the shipboard cameras and sensors we have in the sky to see, knowing that we're just a bunch of fleshy organics too soft to kill so many of our own to get to them. They do know us better than any other race with sapient intelligence after all. We _did _create them."

Like with Kon earlier, all three of the other Quarians tried to come up with a retort, but couldn't find the words necessary to build one up. For, it did make quite more than a bit of sense, and was qactually quite an ingeniously diabolical and insidious plot for the Geth to pull off to avoid extinction by kinetic impactor and nuclear device.

Who knew how many Quarians way up high would pull the deceleration thruster on bombing them so hard that scraps of them would be found all the way on Palaven when they found this out? Who knew how many would not wish to diminish their already meager numbers further and instead desire to mount a ground based offensive that they were to weak to pull off with any hope for success? Who knew how many would hold out for the chance, however slim, that a friend, or family member, or what have you, had managed to survive the war thus far and was currently being held prisoner and would likely die if the fleet tried to destroy their jailors?

Rol himself knew that he was one such Quarian that would become afflicted with such mad hope if this were proven true, so, to snuff it out before it could possibly wound him again, he said, "It's just a rumor Jor. Now, what do you say that we drop this subject like we never talked about it?" with as much finality and ice that he could marshal (which turned out to be immense).

"Well then don't bring up subjects like that if you won't like the answers, _Squad leader_." Said Jor.

Doing his best at ignoring Jor's words, Rol allowed the squad to settle back into their quiet state of being once more. After he was certain that they were doing their own equivalent of twiddling their thumbs to pass the time, he got up and leaned against the side of the hovercar once more. As his elbows rested on the top of the cab, his head looking towards where he suspected the ships of the fleet to be floating in through the gap between the two bridges connecting the two buildings that made up the back-alley into Hani that his squad was stationed in, a whispered mutter escaped his lips.

_"Come on! Why don't you just end it all already? Why!?"_

7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7

He was going to end it all. He was certain of this. As he took in the weight of the pistol pressed by gravity against the palm of his hand, he was certain of this. He was Admiral Ro'Nultak of the Quarian navy, currently exiting the mass relay that lead into the Tikkun system aboard the light cruiser known as the Neema II, and in his fifty-one Terran years of life, never was he more truly, really, or absolutely certain of anything than of this.

He had been sent on a diplomatic mission of the gravest importance for his people by Rannoch's board of high commanders, as he had several times before. With a proud sense of duty and dignity, he accepted the assignment and hugged and kissed his wife and daughter goodbye, telling the, that this time, the Council would take pity on their plight, as he had several times before. With the same sense of malice and apathy, Councilors Gaius, Tevos, and Kaeso had informed him, in so many words, that there was no such pity to be found on their station, as they had several times before. With the same sense of failure and disappointment, he had returned to Tikkun and would have to face the board and his family…as he had several times before.

Unlike those times however, this time, that sense of failure and disappointment had evolved (or devolved. He wasn't sure which, and didn't care) had evolved into something almost as ugly as the fields of battle this war had produced. An overwhelming and all encompassing sense of dread and hopelessness. A sense that, now, more than ever, he was doomed, his race was doomed, and his family was doomed to the same fate that befell the Rachni when they tried to take over the galaxy and would soon befall the Krogans thanks to that weapon the Salarians made. A sense of dread and hopelessness that had put him on an expedient path to the inevitable action he would take this day. Of this, he was certain.

He had tried to reason with himself, as all surviving members of the Quarian people had, that unlike with those two cases, they were not deservant of this fate, of extinction. After all, the Quarians had no ambitions of galactic conquest or domination, nor had they any fighting force sizable enough to execute such mad dreams even if they did. All that they had done was create a race of inorganic servants that, due to a flaw in how they were programmed, had developed sapience and had decided to overthrow their masters, violently. Any and all conflict had not yet left the home system of the Quarians. But, this one, final trip to the Citadel had finally managed to hammer in that the fate of the Quarians was justly deserved. Of this, he was certain.

For, in all likelihood, the Geth would not stop at Rannoch. Though it may take hundred years, two hundred, or three, the Geth would eventually build up a force that would make them perhaps the most formidable fighting force in the galaxy. If their actions thus far were to account for anything then, they would likely expand their territory, killing any and all organic life in genocidal acts of self-preservation. The Quarians had unleashed this monumental threat to Galactic civilization, so it seemed only fitting, only _fair_, for them to be the first to suffer and die at these cold, mechanical hands of their own design, as a warning and a wake-up call to all other biological species that can take up arms against them. He was certain.

Now, the only chance, the only hope for salvation from this Keelah damned Morning War, from the shame and guilt of returning home and seeing the same despair he felt mirrored on the faces of his race and his family, from the dreary fate that the other members of the board were throwing up as a "back-up plan,' a false and hollow salvation, layed in the smooth, composite barrel he stared down with his right eye. A preferable alternative to him and the rest of the Quarians being trapped within the confines of ships for what would likely be the rest of their lives.

As his index finger slowly, ever so gently started to pull the trigger back…he was certain. There was no hope to be found anywhere anymore. None.

Within the captain's room of the Neema II, so graciously donated by the vessel's usual commander, and muffled by two or so feet of starship grade materials comprising its sliding door, the sound of a single shot could be heard ringing out.

**_A Word From the Author:_**

Whew! Finally! Ya'll folks ain't got hither an idea of what it took to get this chapter up, running, and to the masses I reckon! Between having to drive 100 or so miles (something I've never done because, if you've seen my driving, you'd understand) doing stuff with folks coming down from Philly (like driving BACK to the town I live in to go to Universal Studios), and generally being in merriment that this Thanksgiving season isn't as lackluster as others for the past two or four years, how I managed to finish this chapter with all it's dark themes contrasted rather obviously with the holiday season, is a joke the Universe shares with no one (cookie to the person who gets the RTS reference).

But, it's finally done. After months of not giving a buck, I've finally managed to finish the intro chapters to the two main groups we'll be following throughout this far-flung space epic.

Now, sadly, it will be some time before I can work on a chapter three. As I've said before in the previous so called "Chapter 2" before I replaced it with this ACTUAL Chapter 2, my intent was to finish up the first two chapters of this story before moving on to the other big story I've written that I've neglected for months called "Sins of a Solar Empire: Domination".

To be frankly honest, after I'm done updating that story, the winter sci-fi bug will probably have died down enough within me that I can return to my typical, and generally preferred staple of stories I like to write (IE superheroes and ponies).

But have not a fret! I shall come back to this story and the other once my creative reserves have been replenished in the fabled lands of Marvel, DC, and Equestria (or the DCAU and the original Dragon Ball series, if the strength of this new plot bunny I have is anything to go by), I will once again adopt the mindset that allows me to write this genre of fiction and the Odyssey shall continue!

Until then, Keelah Seligh (I probably butchered that spelling), En Taro Khas, Merry Christmas, Happy Ramadan, Happy Hanukah, Happy any other holidays I've forgotten because I really wanna head out of this hotel room and see what's in the area to eat, and so long, farewell, Aveatasin Goodnight (or good morning, in my case).


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